Breathing
by djEskimo
Summary: Happiness Trilogy 2/3. Post Aliyah: Tony and Ziva repair their relationship. TIVA - NCIS Family
1. 1: One Thing

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. That is all.**

**a/n: Well, I succumbed to the peer pressure. Here is the sequel to "Happiness." If you haven't read that story, you might want to. You can find it on my profile page.  
**

**This is a post Aliyah fic, so there will be spoilers.**

**Just a quick FYI, this will be essentially the same style as "Happiness," with POVs alternating between Tony and Ziva. I'm thinking this will end up at 11 chapters as well.**

**Enjoy:**

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

"Abby, calm down." I say, throwing on my backpack as she quite literally bounces beside me.

"I can't calm down Ziva! You're coming in to work today!"

It is the fourth time she has said it.

"Yes, I know."

Gibbs had ordered me to take a week to myself before starting again with NCIS and Abby had graciously offered to let me stay in her apartment. McGee and Palmer moved in a queen-sized mattress that took up half of her living room while she helped me shop for clothes.

I use "help" loosely.

"But Ziva, you get to see everyone today!"

"You have had them over for dinner every night."

She had.

I would have rather just eaten by myself, but I felt that since Abby was generous enough to let me stay with her, I should at least humor her social desires.

"I know, but now it's different. Now it's at work!" She says it so happily, and I do not have the heart to argue with her.

I do not know why I should be excited to return to NCIS. I mean, I do, obviously, want to return, but Gibbs has placed me on desk duty for the next six weeks as Ducky thought that was the prudent amount of time I needed to fully recuperate.

Suffice to say, I do not agree.

Abby has promised to keep me company as I complete hours of mindless paperwork. I am not sure what she intends on doing, but I appreciate the offer.

Abby really has been amazing to me.

I glance over at her and she smiles back as we walk out to her car – I have not been cleared for driving yet.

Tony would laugh and tell me I never should have been cleared in the first place.

Tony.

I sigh, opening the door to her hearse and taking my seat on the comfortable black leather.

He had been at dinner with the rest of the group, sure. But we had hardly talked, exchanging pleasantries at the most.

I know he wants to take this slow, and Abby had explained to me that he just does not want to mess things up this time… but "taking it slow" does not mean not talking.

And if it does, then I do not wish to take things slowly anymore.

I miss him. I miss his movie references, and his stupid teasing.

What I would not give to hear him say my name as he used to – elongated the syllables, turning it into "zee-vah."

"You care what we listen to?" Abby asks, breaking my tangent.

"Not in the slightest."

She gives an evil smile. "Brain Matter it is."

-=-

My ears are still ringing as I pass through the Navy Yard's security. I do not think I will be buying _Brain Matter'_s newest album any time soon.

"So, I know you didn't want a big entrance, but I did ask McGee to get you a cake." Abby admits, pressing the call button for the elevator.

"Do not worry about it." I respond, stepping through into the metal box. "As long as there are no balloons."

I give her a large smile, and she returns it.

My face still is a little swollen, but I managed to make it look relatively normal after thirty minutes of make-up application.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Tony and Gibbs put all your stuff back on your desk. They didn't know where it all went, so I guess you'll have something non-paperworky to do today. I can help you get organized, if you want."

"Thank you for the offer, Abby, but I think it would be easier if I did that by myself. I like to know where things are."

"I'm a little OCD about my desk too."

"OCD?"

"You know… Like, anal." She says as the elevator doors slide open and we walk into the bustling squad room.

"What?" I ask, and she sighs, patting me lightly on the shoulder.

"Ask Tony."

"Ask Tony what?" I hear him call from his desk as we enter the bullpen.

"Could you define 'OCD' for her?"

"Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and welcome back Ziva." McGee answers quickly, and I send him a small wave.

"Thanks for stealing my thunder, McDoctor." Tony mutters, as Abby leaves me with a small hug before heading off to the lab.

"It is nice to see you too Tony," I laugh, placing my backpack down next to my extremely cluttered desk.

I never realized how much stuff I kept at NCIS. Large stacks sit next to my computer among them were several books, a few spare items of clothing, and a book of English idioms I am sure Tony sniggered when he saw.

Other piles had various other trinkets I had collected in my years: maps, address books, knives, and a steaming hot cup of tea…

I do not think I left that there.

I cough loudly, holding it up for Tony and McGee to see.

Tim immediately looks at Tony, who sends me a nervous smile.

"I was getting myself a coffee, and I thought you might want something too." He says, reaching into his coat pocket. "I didn't know how you wanted it, so I brought back some cream and sugar."

He retrieves the two items from his pocket and holds them up to show me.

"I prefer it as is." I smile and he sets the flavorings down. "Thank you."

The surprise is evident in my tone. Tony did not normally get other peoples' drink unless he is forced to.

"Any time Zee-Vah."

My heart jumps at the name, and he flashes his infamous DiNozzo grin.

I take a long sip of the tea to hide my smile as I look on at my desk.

"You want some help organizing, Ziva?" McGee asks.

"No, thank you though. I like to know exactly where things are."

"That would explain the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder conversation…" Tony responds.

"Speaking of which, I still do not know what exactly that is."

"In layman's terms, it's called being a neat freak." I hear Gibbs say as he walks in, fresh coffee in hand. "Gear up, we got a dead marine."

I had just been getting my hopes up on having company today.

Tony and McGee quickly shuffle around their desks as I look sadly at Gibbs. He grabs something out of a drawer before walking towards me.

"Just because you aren't going in the field with us doesn't mean you don't get this." He says quietly, handing me my badge and SIG.

I smile at the familiar feel of the objects. I missed this.

"Welcome back, Ziver." He adds a kiss to my cheek before walking towards the elevator, McGee and Tony in tow.

"I still do not think it is fair that Tony gets to go out in the field!" I call after them, and Tony turns around to face me.

"I got cleared for duty yesterday." He says happily, holding up his sling-less arm.

How did I not notice that earlier?

The elevator doors close after Tony narrowly slips in.

I am surprisingly happy, even though I have been left behind.

It feels good to be back.

-=-

It took me less than one hour to complete the reorganization of my desk. After that it was paperwork, answering calls, taking notes, reviewing files…

Essentially everything that I hate.

I rest my head in my hands as I hear the ding of the elevator followed by familiar footfall.

"How is the case?" I ask, rubbing my temples.

"Over," Gibbs says, and I look up.

"Open and shut. We showed up at the crime scene and a guy came up to us to confess." Tony explains, placing a large white bag on his desk.

"Why did it take you four hours?"

"We got lunch," he replies, pulling out a couple items. "Club sandwich for the McGoo," he says, hurling it at the young agent. "Meatball pour moi, and a Philly Cheese Steak for the ninja."

I look up just in time to catch the tinfoil wrapped sandwich.

"Thank you, Tony."

Second food item he has gotten for me today.

"Thank probie, it was on his dime."

That explains it.

"Thank you, Tim."

"You're welcome."

I do not think there is a food less kosher than a Philly Cheese Steak, and I would never have found one in Israel, but quite frankly I do not care.

To me, it tastes like America, and NCIS, and family.

Perhaps I am taking too much symbolism out of this one little thing, but this one little thing is yet another reminder of why I need to stay here.

And that is what counts.

-=-

**--==--**

**Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. You all inspired me to write it…**

**This was a little bit of a filler, just to set the scene of where the characters are. Things pick up in the next one.**

**Reviews?**


	2. 2: Sunny Days

**a/n: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I'm glad you all liked the first chapter.**

**And now, here is the second:**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

There is nothing better than looking up from my desk and seeing Ziva.

I don't even mind the bruises and scrapes. I mean, I mind them. I don't like them. But just seeing her back at her desk… back at NCIS… back where she belongs…

It's been hard to keep the smile off of my face all day.

"Alright, well I'm off." McGee says as he puts on his coat. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Tim." Ziva says and I too begin the process of packing up.

"Hey, Ziva," I start, looking over at the Mossad liason, though I'm sure she'd rather be called an NCIS agent. "I'm cooking some of my famous DiNozzo quesadillas tonight, you should come over."

"DiNozzo quesadillas? How well can an Italian cook Mexican food?"

"Very. So, what do you say?"

She gives me a small smile. "No thank you, Tony."

"Some other time then." I reply, hiding the disappointment as I stand up and put my backpack on. "Night."

"Good night."

Day one with Ziva back went well. We talked. Sure, it was mostly superficial… but perhaps that's the way to go for now.

And it's not like I had been expecting her to accept my invitation. I'd bought the ingredients on a whim. Quesadillas were my specialty in college: shredded cheese, pineapple salsa, and ground beef all grilled inside a flour tortilla… They were legendary on campus.

And they're good to eat during movies. And Ziva likes movies, and I had been planning to watch one with her.

Okay, not planning… more hoping…

But she's not coming over which is fine. It's understandable even.

And on the bright side, now I don't have to compromise on what movie we watch.

I sigh, slipping into the elevator with several other agents.

Maybe I should just pick up some take out.

-=-

Nothing like _Big Wong'_s egg rolls and a film to make a perfect Monday night.

I crouch down, sorting through my DVD collection.

Do I want to watch a Drama? Action? Romantic Comedy?

I smile, pulling out Hitchcock's _Psycho_.

Horror.

Perfect.

It's probably a good thing that Ziva didn't come over. She would've wanted to watch something funny.

That's one of the odd things about her. She doesn't seem like the type who would enjoy a comedy, but that's all she'd want to watch back when we had our weekly movie sessions.

Wow, that was a long time ago.

I place the DVD into the player before grabbing my food and plopping myself on the couch.

When did the movie nights stop? When Gibbs got back from Mexico?

We should do them again. Obviously not now. I mean, she doesn't want to spend more than five minutes in my presence.

Then again, maybe a movie night is just what we need.

I jump as the phone rings, throwing the remote across the couch.

The movie hasn't even started and I'm already jumpy? Maybe tonight's not the night for horror…

I'm just about to pick up the phone as I hear a knock on the door.

Seriously? Since when am I so popular…

"Anthony DiNozzo," I answer as I make my way towards the door.

"Good evening sir, I'm Richard Scott and I'm calling to help you consolidate your debt."

Well that figures.

"Consolidate my debt huh?" I mumble, opening the door.

"Yes, sir, I'm prepared to of-"

I hang up as I see Ziva standing awkwardly on my doorstep.

Ziva is on my doorstep?

I'm saved the trouble of greeting her as she begins to speak, "Hi Tony. I am sorry for coming over unannounced, but Abby has her bowling league tonight, and I did not feel like cooking. And then I decided that quesadillas sounded really good, even if they are cooked by an Italian."

She's cute when she's nervous.

"How'd you get here? I thought you weren't driving yet." I respond, putting my phone in my pocket as I rest against the doorway.

"Not legally." She smiles so I do too. "Right, well I am sorry to invite myself over, but-"

"I think I should be the one apologizing." I interrupt, ushering her inside. "I decided to go with take-out over quesadillas, so it looks like you won't get to taste DiNozzo's world famous cooking tonight."

I send her a large smile and she looks at her feet – is she embarrassed?

"But I picked up enough to feed three people, so we should be okay."

"I am sorry for barging in on you… I just…" She stops, seemingly unable to think of words.

"Hey, don't worry about it, Ziva. I like the company. Let me go fix you a plate and then we'll watch a movie."

"It is okay, I can fix myself a plate."

"Nope, you can't. Because you're going to go pick out a movie for us to watch."

"I can do that," She says and I walk happily to my kitchen, not bothering to conceal the smile on my face.

"It looks like you already picked one out, Tony." I hear her call from the living room.

Oh right. _Psycho_.

"I think I'm more in the mood for a comedy though." I reply, hoping she buys it.

"Are you?"

She doesn't.

Ziva has always been able to tell when I'm lying. Even when she can't see me.

"I am now."

And it's true. Laughing is good. Watching Ziva laugh is better.

I throw a little bit of everything on her plate, though I give her the rest of the egg rolls; I know how much she likes them.

"Hey, what do you want to drink?"

"Water is fine. How does _Airplane!_ sound?"

"Sounds good."

I grab Ziva's meal before heading back towards the TV.

"Your dinner, milady." I say, placing the plate on the coffee table. She takes her seat – the seat she sat on back when she would frequent my home.

"Thank you, Tony." Her voice is soft and I send her a large smile before reclining into my own chair.

"Anytime, Ziva. And I mean it." I add quietly, hoping she understands just how serious I am about that.

She nods, and we fall into a comfortable silence as the move begins.

-=-

I don't know anything I'd rather do than see Ziva laugh. See Ziva happy.

I tried to watch the movie more than her, but it was tough. Her smile shined through her scarred face, and it was beautiful.

I know she could probably feel me watching her, and I know she probably thought it was creepy, but she didn't comment on my stalker-esk behavior.

And she really seemed to be enjoying the movie, though once the credits started rolling she left almost immediately.

It was an awkward goodbye. Everything about our relationship is awkward right now though.

She thanked me for dinner. I told her it was no trouble. She walked towards the door. I stayed in the living room. She said goodnight. I told her to drive safely.

We both shared a laugh at the notion before she finally walked out, closing the door lightly behind her.

-=-

Perhaps our relationship hasn't changed much. Clearly it's still on rocky ground.

But rocky ground is better than nothing.

And seeing as how a few weeks ago she held a loaded gun to my chest, rocky ground feels just fine.

Better than fine, actually. Rocky ground feels flippin' great.

-=-

**--==--**

**There it is. Hope you enjoyed some Tony/Ziva interaction.**

**If anyone can correctly guess the song I'm referring to with the title of this chapter, I will give you a virtual cookie.**

**(Hint, the name of the song isn't exactly the name of the chapter)**


	3. 3: Last Request

**a/n: The answer to the question I posed in the last chapter is the Seasme Street theme song… there's a dynamite cover of it by Joshua Radin, you can find it on youtube.**

**Anywho, here's the next chapter. We get to see Ducky!**

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

"Tony, I am perfectly capable of getting my own beverages." I say, walking into the bullpen to find yet another cup of tea sitting on my desk.

"I know, Zee-Vah, I didn't buy that one."

"Did you steal it then?"

I am not as angry as I sound, though that does not mean I wish to be pampered; people do not normally get me tea, why should they now?

"For your information the tea was there when I got in this morning… about a minute before you."

"McGee?" I ask, turning on the younger agent.

"What? I didn't get you anything. Not that I wouldn't if you asked."

The three of us share a confused look.

"Gibbs?"

"What DiNozzo?" Gibbs responds, walking into the squadroom.

"Did you buy me tea?" I ask, holding up the warm drink.

"I don't drink tea."

"That doesn't mean you didn't buy it." Tony responds for me.

"Well you beat me to it yesterday, DiNozzo. I decided I'd do it today."

Gibbs revealing his soft side yet again.

I know I should feel touched, but a wave of defiance hits me.

"You should not feel the need to get me things, Gibbs. Neither should you, Tony."

It comes out sharper then I intended and I feel bad as I see hurt flash through Gibbs's eyes.

"Noted." He says softly, and I have to look away as the guilt rushes through me.

Why can I never let people be nice to me?

His phone ringing breaks the awkward silence and I take my seat, placing my backpack next to me.

I look up to see Tony and McGee staring at me. They both immediately look away, but I could still see their worry filled faces.

I just want to be normal again.

"Got it." Gibbs says, snapping his phone shut. "Gear up. Jones said he had an accomplice."

"Did he give the name?" McGee asks.

It is surreal to watch the team solve a case without being involved. I do not know who _Jones_ is, or what criminal act he committed. Well, I assume they probably are talking about the murder from yesterday, but I do not know for sure.

And that bothers me immensely.

"What can I do?" I blurt out, interrupting Gibbs as he explains something to McGee.

He looks at me, eyes piercing my own. I wish I could read his thoughts.

"Drink your tea." He says quietly before walking towards the elevator. Tony and McGee give me sympathetic looks as they follow him.

Drink my tea.

_Drink my tea?_

What the hell?

-=-

"Ducky, I need help." I call, entering autopsy.

"Is something wrong with your bandaging? I knew you should have taken another week off…"

"What? Oh, no, it is not a physical problem so much as psychological."

"Ah." He says, and I just now notice Palmer standing awkwardly against the wall.

"I'll uh. Go... Help…" He does not finish the thought as he walks out of the cold room, leaving me alone with the old doctor.

"Please, let's sit." He says, ushering me towards a chair. "What seems to be the problem, Ziva?"

I take my seat at Ducky's desk chair as he pulls up another.

"It is Gibbs."

"What about him?"

"He is just… He is not treating me normally. He got me tea this morning, Ducky. He never used to. And I just… I do not like it."

Ducky takes a deep breath before starting.

"What you have to understand about Jethro, is that he never wants to make the same mistake twice." I raise a questioning eyebrow as he continues. "He thinks of you as a daughter, Ziva. He cares for you the way he cared for Kelly, his biological daughter. When she was killed, he blamed himself – and probably still does. Then Kate was shot, and he once again felt at fault. When he found out that you-"

Ducky stops as I look away, trying not to think of my most recent escapade with Mossad.

"Jethro does not want to lose another daughter, Ziva. He loves you, very much. And while he might seem overbearing at the moment, you must understand why. Obviously, it would be best for your psyche if no one treated you any differently now than they did before, but that is not the case for Gibbs."

I nod.

"And it is not the case for anyone else either."

I give Ducky another inquiring look.

"We all care about you, my dear. Abby, McGee, Tony, and me. And while we all know that you are far more capable then us to defend yourself, it still does not stop us from feeling the need to protect you."

"I do not want to be the damsel is duress." I say, affirming his point.

"I believe you mean _distress_, and we know you don't. That is why we are all more passive in our attempts at protecting you. For example, perhaps I overestimated the time you would need to fully recover."

I knew it! Six week was far too long for only minor injuries.

"I do not want you to feel the need to protect me." I say, not just referring to Ducky.

"Unfortunately, that cannot be prevented." He responds with a sad smile. "Eventually we will remember that you are the same confident and competent Ziva, but it will take time."

I do not know what I would do without Ducky. He is so good at putting things in perspective.

"But, Ziva, this does require some work from you as well. I do not mean to offend, but… You have not been yourself. Please don't take this the wrong way, as it's completely understandable – expected even – after what you went through. But when you're acting so differently than you used to, it's hard for us not to treat you differently as well."

"Acting differently? How am I acting differently?"

He sighs, and adjusts his glasses before continuing.

"At all those dinners at Abby's house, you hardly ever spoke. And while you might not notice it, you are significantly more reserved than you were before. And your confidence…"

He stops and suddenly I feel incredibly exposed.

"I recommended you to see a psychologist, Ziva. I am assuming you've yet to do so."

"I do not need to."

I know it is a lie even before I say it.

"Ziva, admitting you might need help shows strength, not weakness. I could force you to have at least one session with a department-sanctioned psychologist, but I'm not going to. I think you should be able to make that choice on your own."

We fall into a comfortable silence as I absorb Ducky's words.

"You're a strong woman, Ziva. And you're going to be okay, no matter what you decide to do."

"Thank you, Ducky." I say softly and he gives me a small smile.

I wonder if I will ever meet a wiser man.

-=-

The team does not get back until 4:30. Though it's really only half a team. Okay, technically one third a team.

"Tony, where are Gibbs and McGee?" I ask as he sits at his desk, putting his SIG in the drawer.

"Hospital. McGoo took a knife to the arm. Should be fine though."

McGee got stabbed? Why did they not call?

Tony notices my look of shock and elaborates, "Just a small wound to the forearm. Gibbs probably only stayed with him at the hospital so he wouldn't have to tell Abby."

"Tell me what?" Abby's voice rings out through the room, and Tony sends me a desperate look.

"McGee was stabbed." I say bluntly, saving Tony the trouble.

"WHAT?"

Her scream silences the entire squadroom, and I look to Tony, waiting for him to explain.

"He's going to be fine. A small cut on his forearm. He's at the hospital but just for precaution."

"Precaution? There's no such thing, Tony! I come up here for a caf-pow and find out Timmy's been stabbed…" She's pacing nervously in front of my desk. "Ziva, do you mind if I go to the hospital. I want to make sure McGee is okay."

She is surprisingly calm for the situation. I mean, she is walking and talking faster than I thought humanly possible, but she still managed to form a logical and grammatically correct sentence.

"I'll give her a ride home." Tony pitches in.

"Thank you so much, Tony. And Ziva, I don't know when I'll be back, but I doubt I'll be eating dinner with you tonight." She says, waiting for me to respond so she can leave.

"I will be fine, Abby." As soon as the words leave my mouth she is off.

Tony rolls his eyes at Abby's antics before giving me a small smile.

"Hey, so I still have the materials for quesadillas, and if you want some company for dinner…"

His smile is endearing.

I am thinking of Ducky's advice when I reply. "As long as I get to pick the movie again."

"Done."

-=-

**--==--**

**Review please, because they really do mean a lot to me =]**


	4. 4: Breakdown

**a/n: I don't have too much to say here. This chapter might confuse some people, but it will be explained.**

**Enjoy:**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

I tell Ziva about the case on the way back to my apartment: how Jones gave up his accomplice and we went to arrest him. He had ambushed us, putting a knife in McGee's arm before being tackled by Gibbs.

"The probie's tougher than I thought, though. Didn't even cry as he pulled the knife out." I explain as we get out of the car.

"How deep did it go in?"

"Bout an inch."

"And you are sure he is going to be fine? An inch is a lot…"

"He looked fine. It's not like he was shot."

"Stab wounds hurt." She says as we reach the front of my apartment building.

Instantly I know she's talking from personal experience and I feel sick. Probably from Somalia… I look sadly at her, trying not to think of the several hidden scars I know mottle her previously pristine skin.

I figured a week would be enough time to get used to that notion… but nope. Still disgusts me just as much as it did before.

How could anyone do that to Ziva? She's too beautiful to be touched.

I scoff at how corny that sounds, and Ziva sends me a funny look as she calls for the elevator.

"What?" She asks.

"Just thinking about what movie you're going to pick out tonight." I lie but she seems to buy it.

"If it means that much to you Tony, you can pick out what we watch."

"No it's fine. I mean, just as long as Hugh Grant isn't in it." I add a smile as we step into the elevator and she hits the number for my floor.

It seems almost normal. Like it's some sort of routine.

"That is too bad. I was hoping to watch _Bridget Jones's Diary_ again."

"I can't believe Abby thought you'd enjoy that."

I distinctly remember the day as if it were yesterday; after a particularly heartbreaking case, Abby had taken Ziva to see a movie in hopes to cheer her up.

Ziva had come rushing to my house immediately after, telling me that she needed to watch _The Godfather_ to cleanse her system.

"Yes, well, I might have mentioned that I liked a movie that… you would call it a chicken flick, yes?"

"Chick. Chick flick."

"Yes that."

"And the movie was…" I say, as the elevator doors slide open and we step out.

"_Legally Blonde_." She mutters quietly and I feign disgust.

"Oh, Ziva!" Maybe I'm not actually faking it that much. "Legally Blonde? The one where the playboy bunny goes to Harvard Law? Just when I was starting to respect your taste in films…"

"It was clever!" She defends, and we laugh our way into my home.

God, this feels good.

"Okay, you go pick a movie while I get dinner started. I'm trusting you here, Ziva."

"We can pick it out together. Let me help you cook dinner."

"These are DiNozzo's famous quesadillas; just let me cook them for you."

"I can not even get out the materials?"

"Nope. Tonight, you do nothing." I say it with a smile.

She frowns back.

"Please just let me help."

Ziva has that flustered look on her face. The one where if she doesn't get what she wants, someone will end up on the ground.

"Ziva… I'm just trying to be nice."

"No one has let me do anything recently!" She says, and I cringe at the genuine anguish filling her features. "It is like you view me as incapable of performing simple tasks!"

"We know you're capable, we just…" I stop, realizing I don't have a good way to finish that sentence.

"I am sick of feeling weak. I know you have the best intentions, but please just let me help you."

"Look who's talking. When have you ever let anyone help you?"

Why did I say that?

"What do you think I am doing right now?"

Why did I flippin' say that?

"Having dinner with a friend."

She's silent.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"Excuse me." She says softly and I watch her walk towards the bathroom.

I feel the need to give myself a Gibbs slap.

Or seven.

-=-

I am just finished making the quesadillas when Ziva finally resurfaces, eyes red and swollen.

Has she been crying? Since when does Ziva cry?

Damn it.

"You want anything to drink?" I ask as I hand her a plate.

"Water."

I'm tempted to ask her if she wants to get it herself but I keep my mouth shut. I really don't want to make things worse.

"So, you uh… decide on a movie?"

"Actually I am feeling tired. I think I would rather just eat and then go home. Or, to Abby's, really."

"Look, Ziva, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"You did not offend me Tony." She says before taking a bit of her dinner. "These are good."

"Yeah, they're great." I say flatly. Maybe it's best not to push the issue. "You sure you don't want to watch a movie? Even _Legally Blonde_?"

"I am sure Tony."

"Ziva-"

"Please. I am tired." Her voice is plaintive so I shut up.

"So…" I don't like silence. Particularly not when the silence is created by Ziva's hatred of me. "How 'bout them Cowboys...?"

"What Cowboys?"

"It's just something… never mind."

We eat the rest of our meal in silence. She only speaks again to tell me just how good the quesadillas are.

Damn it.

"Would you like a ride home?" I ask as she finishes her meal. I've hardly touched mine.

"No, I think I will just take the metro."

"Ziva."

"Tony."

Why are we both so stubborn?

"Goodnight." I say finally, picking up Ziva's plate and bringing it to the sink.

"I will see you tomorrow." She says, and I don't look up as she leaves.

I really need to stop screwing things up like this.

-=-

**--==--**

**Short chapter, but the next one will be longer.**

**This was important to move the plot forward though.**


	5. 5: Gravity

**a/n: You know what's a good show? NCIS.**

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

"Ziva! Where were you! I was so worried!" Abby greets me as I make my way into her apartment.

"I was at Tony's." I say softly and she wraps me into a hug.

"Why are you sad? Why do you sound sad? Ziva, what happened?"

"Nothing. I ate dinner."

And I cried. Something I have been doing way too much of recently.

I know I overreacted. And after everything that Ducky told me about letting people help me for their sake, not mine…

"Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"It ran out of power." I lie. I think I left it in Tony's car.

What a stupid lie.

I feel bad enough as it is.

No, actually I feel awful. For making Gibbs hurt, for rejecting Tony's hospitality, for making Abby worry…

"Ziva, please talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Me. I am wrong."

Abby draws me into another hug though I do not know what I have done to merit her affection.

"What happened?"

"I just… I cannot seem to be normal. You all have been so amazing to me, and… I keep screwing it up."

Abby lets go of me, holding my head so I am forced to look at her.

"You shouldn't be normal right now. Being not normal is normal. You're allowed to be fragile, and you're allowed to screw things up."

"You did not see the way they looked at me…"

"Who's they?"

"Gibbs. Tony. You."

"Ziva…" She starts, moving me towards her couch. "What exactly are you worried about?"

I take my seat as I try to think of a response.

"I am worried…" I am going to sound like an idiot. "I am worried that you will realize that I am not worth all the trouble you are going through."

Abby stares at me, mouth agape.

I understand it sounds stupid, but… is it so wrong?

"Ziva. You have got to be kidding me."

"It is not that unreasonable. You have been unequivocally wonderful to me. I do not know anything I have ever done in my life to deserve this."

"Don't ever say that. Ever. You are one of the most amazing people I know. We all love you. Please don't even think that it could be any other way."

I have already cried once today.

I will not do it again.

"It just… I do not understand how you can be so nice to me. I lied to you. I lied to you all. I helped Rivkin and undermined your trust. Why are you doing this for me?"

"You would do the same for us."

Would I?

"Ziva… Gibbs and Tony… Even me… We're all scared that we might do something to hurt you. And when you respond so negatively to anything we do, it makes us feel like you don't want us. That maybe you'd rather be back in Israel."

Oh.

"There is no other place I would rather be than here, with all of you. I just want to be treated normally." I feel like I have had this conversation before. And I have. With Ducky.

Do I not learn?

"We love you. And if you want to be treated normally, then just tell us. The last thing we want to do is make you unhappy."

I am the one who initiates the hug this time.

I love her.

"Thank you." I say quietly.

"And, Ziva. I know that you don't want any, but if you need help, any kind, please don't be afraid to ask. I'm sure that offer applies to anyone on the team too."

I nod, and she smiles.

"It's good to have you back."

"It is good to be back."

-=-

_Hands are around my neck and a large object makes contact with the side of my head. I do not have the time to fight back as suddenly I see three armed men appear from nowhere, guns focused on me._

"_So good of you to join us, Ms. David."_

_The voice comes from behind me, but I do not turn to face him. Why bother?_

_Two of the men hold my arms back as the other keeps his gun trained on me. The fourth, who I still cannot see laughs._

"_Disarm her." He says, and I feel hands pulling roughly at my clothes. It takes all my strength not to kick the man who is searching._

_He certainly lets his hands wander more than one would deem necessary._

_I kick him anyways. He snarls, but the man behind me laughs, and the search continues._

_He takes both my guns and the knife at my waist._

_Damn it._

"_I am afraid that you will not be with us for the next part of our journey, however. We would not want you to know where we are taking you."_

_I feel a sharp pain before all goes dark_

_Suddenly I am awake again. Awake and in a room. Sitting on an uncomfortable chair._

_And I hear tapping._

_Why is there tapping?_

_No, not tapping… beeping… A bomb?_

_No, not a bomb…_

_An alarm clock._

I am woken with a start as I shut off the alarm clock Abby lent me.

That was the first time I have dreamt of my capture.

I do not wish to do it again.

-=-

There is a cup of tea waiting for me on my desk.

I am not surprised.

I am surprised, however, by the sight of my cell phone sitting next to it.

Tony must have noticed my confused look and he says "You left that at my house. The cell phone, I mean. The tea is more of an apology for last night. I kind of-"

"Put your shoe in your mouth?" I know I misused the idiom.

"Foot, not shoe." He says it with a smile, and the familiar glint in his eyes is back. "And yes. I did."

I take a sip of the beverage and place my phone in my pocket.

"I should apologize as well. I know you had the best intentions, and I overreacted."

"It was completely understandable." He mutters, but I hold up a hand.

"I just would like to be treated as I was before."

"I'll try my hardest." He says, and I give him a small smile.

We share a moment of silence as I try to build up my courage.

"We never got to watch a movie last night. If you still want to…"

"Okay. On one condition."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Not _Legally Blonde_."

"I think I can live with that."

-=-

The day is spent mostly in silence. One of those boring paperwork days. McGee was given the day off to nurse his arm, though he came in during lunch to visit with Abby.

Gibbs has been suspiciously absent, which is unfortunate, as I would like to apologize to him as well.

Tony has been throwing balled up pieces of paper at me all day. I would say it is annoying, but I really do enjoy it.

"The shot is up… And it's good!" He says, as I feel a light object land on my head.

"How many points is that one worth, Tony?" I hiss his name, picking up the ball, and twirling it menacingly.

"Let's see… Head shot from about 5 yards away… And I was spinning in my chair when I let go… I'd say it's at least 50 points."

"How many is this worth, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asks, walking in and slapping Tony on the back of the head.

I give him a smug grin, tossing the paper back at him.

"Gibbs, may I speak with you?" I ask as Tony glares at me, throwing the ball in the trash.

He nods, and motions me towards the elevator.

"My office."

I ignore Tony's questioning look as Gibbs leads me away from the squadroom.

The doors slide open and Gibbs immediately hits the emergency stop switch as they close behind us.

"What's up?" He sounds too casual, and I know he is nervous.

"I just wanted to apologize – and do not tell me it is a sign of weakness."

He remains silent, and I find it hard to look away from his sharp blue eyes.

"I know you are just trying to help, and I do appreciate it. I just… I think it would be best if I were treated normally. Like I used to be."

"Normally?" He asks, and I nod.

He sighs and rubs a hand against his chin.

"I wasn't trying to treat you unusually. I just…"

"I know you care about me Gibbs, and I care about you too. I care about all of you – the team, I mean. I just do not want to get special treatment because of what happened when I was with Mossad."

"Okay." He says softly.

He looks old. He did not look this old when I last saw him in Israel.

I once again initiate the hug – I think I am going to set a world record for hugs in a week.

"Thank you, Gibbs."

"You still aren't going out in the field yet."

"I know."

Damn it.

-=-

**--==--**

**So I haven't been getting too many reviews recently… People are still reading this, yes?**


	6. 6: Breathing

**a/n: Wow. The review response was overwhelming! Thank you so much, and it's good to know people are still liking this.**

**For those of you who have read "Happiness" (hopefully that's all of you, seeing as this is the sequel), you'll note that I change POV's mid chapter again. It should be fairly obvious when it happens.**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

Comedy felt right, so we watched _Office Space_. Ziva laughed heartily through the fax machine destruction, and I knew I had made the right call.

"I am glad we do not work at a place like that." She states as we watch the credits roll.

"Yeah, well there's a reason we don't, Zee-Vah. We like action too much."

"That is why I am dying on desk duty right now."

"You've only got another five weeks." I laugh, and she punches me lightly in the arm.

Well, she probably thought it was light, but it felt more like a Tyson sucker punch to me.

"Pent up aggression?" I ask, rubbing the spot where I know a bruise will be tomorrow.

"Only towards you." She gives me a sweet smile, and I take a sip of my beer.

Huh. Wednesday night. Ziva's been at my place every day of the week so far.

"And what did I do today?"

"You did not let me drive."

"That's because it would have been illegal. Also, I value my life, thank you very much."

"You are just a chicken."

"Seriously, who taught you to drive?"

"Ari. I was ten and I crashed my father's Porche."

"There are so many things wrong with that. First, you were ten? Could your feet even reach the pedals? Second, if you were ten, how old was Ari? Thirteen? I don't think thirteen year-olds are allowed to drive, even in Israel. And finally, you crashed your father's Porche? I've never even driven a Porche! And you were ten!"

"I thought you came from money too?"

I wish she wouldn't bring up my past.

"Yeah, but that didn't mean I was trusted with it."

She makes a sarcastic sad face before continuing. "I was given a lot of responsibility as a child. My father was the one who asked Ari to teach me."

"Why?"

I ask it bluntly, but is there any other way? I mean seriously, why?

"In the event that a situation arose. You know, an emergency or something along those lines."

"Did that ever happen?" I ask it softly, knowing the answer before she responds.

"Once. I was twelve. My father was working and my mother had died the previous month. Ari had driven Tali and me to the beach when a bomb went off. He injured his arm in the explosion so I was the one who had to drive out of there."

"A bomb went off at the beach?" I sound as horrified as I feel.

For anyone else in the world, that would be a life altering experience. But not for Ziva. And the way she said it with so little emotion…

"No one was killed." She replies brusquely, and I'm once again realizing how little I know about my partner.

"You're mom had died the previous month? How?" What an inappropriate remark; good work DiNozzo. "Sorry, that sounded rude-"

"It is okay." She responds. "She had cancer. The doctor had diagnosed it two weeks before she passed on. We never were able to fully say goodbye."

There's some sorrow in her voice now, and I desperately want to hug her.

"I am so sorry."

"Do not be. It was not your fault."

"You're amazing." I say it without thinking before hand. Though it's true.

She has gone through so much in her life… Her mom died when she was twelve, her best friend was killed by a bomb, her _sister_ was killed by a bomb, her brother was killed by Gibbs, a man she works with every day…

"Because my mother died?"

"Because you've got to be the strongest woman in the world."

She gives me a sad smile.

"It does not always feel like it."

"How so?"

"What?"

"Why doesn't it feel like it?"

I feel like a therapist.

"That… is a very odd question."

"Is it? You never talk about yourself, Ziva. I never know what you're thinking or how you're feeling. I hardly know anything about your past… I'd like to know more about you."

Subtlety be damned.

"You want me to talk about myself?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

She raises an eyebrow, and lets out a small chuckle.

"I cannot say I have not lead an interesting life."

"So you should have a lot to talk about then."

She gives me a funny look as we sit in silence for a moment.

"Okay."

-=-

-=-

-=-

There was something so sincere in his expression… How could I not comply?

I mostly talked about superficial elements of my life. Traveling when I was young, my obligatory two years with the military, my college studies, and of course joining Mossad.

He asked me about Tali, but I averted the subject.

I long ago got over the passing of my mother, and while Ari's death was sad, I realized it was justified.

But Tali's…

I still have trouble thinking about it.

"I do not think I have ever said so much in my life." I say finally.

"It's a good workout." He says it with a smile, and adjusts his position on the couch.

How long have we been sitting here?

"I think it is your turn."

"I think it's nearly bed time, Zee-Vah."

"You have hardly spoken all night. Surely you must have something to say."

He's silent for a moment, as our gazes meet.

"I like your hair curly."

"What?"

"Your hair. I like it curly. Don't get me wrong, I like it when it's straight too… but you look younger with it curly. Happier."

I had been in a rush this morning to get ready and had opted against straightening.

Perhaps I will opt against it more often.

"Tali preferred my hair straight." I say it because it is true.

And perhaps I really do want to talk about Tali. No matter how hard it is.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. She was much more fashion forward than I was. She loved dolls and clothes… I did not."

"You guys got along though?"

"Very well. Better than very well. She was my best friend."

I carefully draw my necklace into my hand, holding it up for Tony to see.

"We were given matching necklaces for Chanukah one year. I keep it on so it feels like I am keeping part of her with me. I know that sounds corny, but it makes me feel better."

"I don't think it's corny."

"She was always so positive about everything. She did not want to be Mossad. She was going to become a doctor. She always liked helping people. My father had mixed feelings about it. I think he wanted her to be Mossad, but the inherent risks that come with the job are something no father wishes upon their children. Of course, when she died I think he gave up hope on keeping us safe. She was just an innocent sixteen year old, yet she was taken…"

I feel my eyes tearing up as I remember the day my father told me Tali had been killed. What I would not give to say goodbye to her.

"I am so sorry Ziva." His hand touches my arm lightly, but I shake my head.

"I should go."

The last thing I need is another water-works display in front of Tony.

"No. You shouldn't."

They are not the famous three words everyone speaks of, but they are enough for me. I wrap my arms around him, burying my face into his chest.

We do not speak as he holds me closer, brushing my hair back with one hand.

He is not the strongest man to ever hold me, but I have never felt safer in someone's arms.

It might make me feel weak, but at the moment I am okay with that.

Because maybe sometimes it is okay to feel weak.

And maybe sometimes it is okay to let someone else be strong for you.

And maybe sometimes it is okay to need to be held.

So I let Tony hold me. I let him kiss my cheek, and I let him wipe away my tears.

I let him give me a ride home, and I let him hug me as he leaves me outside Abby's home.

And by doing this, I let myself begin the healing process.

-=-

**--==--**

**Once again, thank you so much for all your reviews last chapter. It was a little crazy.**

**Anywho, I'm glad you're all liking the consistent updates. I know they're short, but they're short for a reason.**

**I'll try to update tomorrow, but it might be tough. I probably won't be at home for most of the day, so we'll see how it goes.**


	7. 7: Gravity

**a/n: Sorry it took me so long to update. Hectic weekend.**

**This chapter has a couple words that you wouldn't want your kids to hear. I mean, unless your kids are like over the age of 15. I'm pretty sure most 15 year olds have heard these words.**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

Movie nights became a regular occurrence. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Ziva would come over to my house. Occasionally we'd cook, but most of the time we'd just pick up a pizza, or something similarly unhealthy.

Sometimes we'd talk afterward. Sometimes we wouldn't.

She'd tell me stories of her childhood: from ballet lessons to her schoolyard escapades. On occasion she'd talk about her family or her friends, most of who had died.

I just kept asking her questions, never giving her time to ask me any.

In fairness, her life is incomparably fascinating.

"So, you get to go back out in the field next week." I say, turning off the TV.

I finally convinced Ziva to watch _Fight Club_. In retrospect, I probably could have picked a better movie for the day, but she seemed to enjoy it.

"Hopefully I will not be doing any fighting like that." She replies, curling her legs underneath her as I un-recline my chair.

"Why? Rusty?"

"No. I just do not wish to get in a fight. Is that so wrong?"

"Not even a little bit."

We share a comfortable silence as she gives me a smile.

Her face has completely returned to normal now. Okay, not completely. She still has a small scar along her cheek.

I don't know about the rest of her body. She's been wearing long sleeved shirts and jackets everyday, though she used to do that too.

I suppose it's not my place to know anyway.

"How are you?"

"How am I?" She responds, laughing a little.

"Yeah."

"I am fine. How are you?"

"Seriously, Ziva. How are you doing? Health wise?"

"Do you not think I am ready for field work?"

"No. I mean… I don't know. I don't even know what's wrong with you. Injury wise."

"Would you like to know?"

Why is every sentence a question?

"If you'd like to tell me."

She's silent.

"But you don't have to. I don't want to pressure you or anything."

"It is not that I do not feel comfortable… I just do not know what to say."

I'm the silent one now as I shift uneasily in my chair.

Maybe I don't want to hear about this.

"I was captured. And they took me to a room. I was beaten. Mostly by hand, but occasionally they would use a knife."

She says it with little emotion, but that doesn't mean I don't feel any.

"I was tied to a chair. I do not know how long. Maybe two days? They asked me about Vance."

Wait – what?

"Vance?"

"Yes. I do not know why. I asked the SEALs who my captors were, but they said it was classified."

"Did you tell Vance?"

"I gave one of the SEALs my recollection. He wrote it up and sent it to SecNav."

"How are you so unfazed by this?"

"I am sorry?"

"You were captured and tortured, Ziva. You were stuck on a chair for two days while being beaten. That's kind of a big deal."

I know it sounds rude, but it's true.

"It could have been worse."

"This is pretty bad as is."

She looks away from me, and rubs one of her arms.

Probably has a scar there. The thought makes me sad, sick, and angry all at once.

"I mean, if Ducky made you take six weeks off than clearly your injuries were more than just a few cuts."

She turns her head sharply to look at me.

"What would you like me to tell you, Tony? Would you like to see the scars?"

No.

Yes.

"Would you like me to?"

"Again with the reiterating. Why do you always do this?"

I raise an eyebrow.

"It is like… you are a parrot. You keep repeating everything I say in the form of a question. Just give me a yes or no answer for once!"

I'm surprised by her outburst, and I think she is too.

We're silent, as I try in vain to read her expression.

"I don't know, Ziva. I really don't want to make you uncomfortable. I just want what you want."

"I am sorry." She says quietly, which surprises me more than her yelling. "I know you are just trying to be supportive."

"That doesn't mean it isn't annoying."

She gives me a small smile before standing up.

"I am feeling a little tired. Would you mind giving me a ride home?"

"Not at all."

But we don't move. I'm still sitting down, and she's still standing awkwardly next to the couch.

Suddenly she's raising her shirt, though she only goes halfway before turning around. Just when it start-

Fuck.

And there's the reason why Ziva was given six weeks off.

The scar stretches from one side of her waist to the other. Big and painful and just… fuck.

"That is probably the worst injury. That is what Ducky said anyway." Her voice is shaky, and nervous.

I wish I could respond, but the line running across her back distracts me. It's thick. It looks like it probably was infected at one point. Doesn't that restrain her movement?

"It is not so bad anymore. The scabbing should go away soon."

She pulls her shirt back over the scar, though she takes a moment before turning around to face me.

"Ziva." I don't have anything to say after that.

"How about that ride?" She finishes for me, suspiciously cheery.

"Yeah." I say, and she walks towards the door, grabbing her purse.

-=-

The ride to her house – Abby's house – was silent and uneventful.

I gave her a soft hug goodbye, being careful to avoid the middle of her back.

Immediately after I drove straight home and poured myself a beer – unfortunately I don't keep bourbon in my apartment.

Why does this scar bother me so much? I mean… it's one mark. And it's not going to affect her permanently… Well, it probably won't go away, but it's not going to be painful.

Right?

I reach for my phone as I take a long sip.

Ducky.

It's nearly eleven… he'll be up.

I hope.

I scroll through my contact list and hit the call button when I come across his name.

"Hello?" Third ring.

"Hey, Ducky. It's uh. It's Tony."

"Anthony. What's the matter?"

"What? Why does there have to be a matter?"

"You are calling me late on a Friday night. I don't know of any other reason why you would do such a thing."

I'm silent for a moment.

"It's Ziva."

He says it before I can, and I'm momentarily taken aback.

"Uh, yeah, how'd you know?"

"Is she okay?" He asks, ignoring my question.

"She's fine. I mean. I think. I don't really know. We were just… She told me about her capture… and I saw the scar on her back."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"And you are calling me to make sure she will be okay?"

"Pretty much."

"She should be fine. It is healing quite nicely. I recently did a check up on her, and it looks much better than it did a month ago."

"Thanks for that." I mutter, trying not to picture her back looking any worse.

"If I may inquire, why exactly did you see Ziva's back?"

"Oh. Well she was over at my house and we just started talking – we do this a couple times a week – and I asked her about Africa and… yeah."

"You do this a couple times a week? Just talk?"

"Well she talks. I listen."

"I see." He's quiet for a moment, and I'm wondering if I've done something terribly wrong. "Tony, I think you should stop these _talking_ sessions."

"What?"

"It's just… I think she might be using you as a makeshift psychologist."

"Isn't that good?"

"Well, yes. But I'd rather her see a professional."

"I mean, as long as she's talking-"

"Tony," he starts, cutting me off. "You can still talk to her, but she needs to separate therapy from a personal relationship."

Sometimes I wish Ducky didn't make so much sense.

"So what do you recommend?"

"Talk about yourself. Or just talk about things a psychologist wouldn't. And, please, make sure you recommend her to seek help."

I'm helping.

Or I thought I was.

"Okay. Thanks, Ducky."

"Anytime, Anthony. Well, anytime before midnight."

I smile.

"Goodnight."

"See you Monday."

Well, at least Ducky distracted me from Ziva's scar.

Oh wait.

Damn.

-=-

**--==--**

**I'm trying to end as many chapters as I can with "Damn".**

**Only kidding, but I feel like I've done it a couple times.**

**Yuppers. Review?**


	8. 8: Breakdown

**a/n: Do you get a Tiva kiss in this chapter?**

**Read on:**

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

I went apartment shopping today.

Or apartment browsing. I did not officially shop, as I did not officially buy.

Maybe it is still shopping.

Abby says it is still shopping.

"Did you find anything good?" She asks as I walk through the door. I am not surprised to find that she spent her Saturday in. She offered to help me look for a place, but I declined.

I have had very little alone time recently. It is tough to be around people all the time.

"Yes, actually, I did."

Yes, I actually did. A very nice one, somewhat close to my previous apartment in Silver Spring. Well, not that close to my previous apartment.

Really close to Tony's, though that has nothing to do with why I liked it. Why I like it.

"Tell me about it!" She replies excitedly, sipping her caf-pow – she drinks those on Saturdays?

"Well, it is about the size of yours… one bedroom, one and a half bathrooms, a nice kitchen – similar to Tony's."

"How's the living room? Cause you know you're going to have to throw a housewarming party."

"Abby, I have not even put in an offer. And the living room is quite spacious as well."

"Don't get me wrong, cause I'm not trying to kick you out, but you should make a bid!"

"You have not even seen the place yet, why are you so keen on it?"

She averts eye contact, and I know that the next words out of her mouth will be lies.

"Oh, you know, you seem really excited about it and all…"

"Abby."

"I might have tracked your phone on my laptop. But Ziva, it's like a block away from Tony's house!"

I noticed.

"How is that important?"

"You've been at his house practically every night for the past month. Talk about convenient."

"I do not think I will be spending that much time there in the future."

"What? Why not? Did you guys get in another fight?"

"No, I just do not think we will keep up the incessant movie nights."

"Oh. Why?"

I do not know why.

I mean, they have been immeasurably helpful; I like having someone to confide in.

It does not hurt that my relationship with Tony is improving.

"I just think it is time for me to regain my independence."

Actually, it was time five weeks ago. I have just been delaying.

"But your not going to Tony's house because you're dependent on him."

What is she implying?

"What are you implying?"

"Ziva… We all know that you and Tony have a thing."

"A thing?"

"Y'know… a relationship. Like, a romantic relationship."

"We do not. And we never have."

"Maybe not a relationship, but you definitely had a thing."

Now she is going in circles.

"Abby."

"You had feelings for him. And he had feelings for you. Romantic ones."

"Yes. I used to have feelings for him. I do not know if I can have them again."

"Why not?"

"I do not trust him."

I know the words are false the second they leave my mouth.

I did not trust him a month ago. I hardly trusted him three weeks ago. But now…

I do not know someone I can trust more.

"Yes, you do."

"Yes, I do."

"But I'm not telling you that you should have feelings for him. I'm not telling you that you shouldn't either though, because that's not really my place, and I don't want to tell you what-"

"Abby," I say, stopping her tangent.

"You like spending time with him, Ziva. And god only knows he likes spending time with you."

"I do not know why. All I do is talk about myself."

"He'd be happy just to watch you sit silently next to him. Not that you should do that."

"He is fantastic."

I say it more for my own benefit than hers. Because he has been fantastic. In every fathomable way.

I look up to see Abby smiling at me.

"But I would like our relationship to go back to normal. I do not wish to talk about myself forever."

"Understandable."

"How do I do that? Make our relationship like it used to be, I mean."

"I don't think you can." When even Abby has lost hope, I know there is no chance. "But that doesn't mean you can't make things better still. Just, go thank him. Cook him dinner or something."

"Cook him dinner?" I laugh, and she slaps my arm lightly.

"I'm serious! The best way to get to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Tony does love his food."

Abby wraps me in a hug. I am kind of desensitized to them now.

"I have the materials for pasta in my house. Go make him a meal."

"You're serious?"

"Serious enough to make you use a contraction."

-=-

I wonder if he is unavailable.

Of course this thought only comes to me as I am knocking at his door, bag of uncooked pasta ingredients in hand.

I probably should have called in advance.

"Ziva," He sounds surprised as he opens the door. Why wouldn't he be surprised? I mean, why should he expect to see me here?

"Hi." Well articulated, Ziva. "I thought I would cook you dinner tonight."

He gives me a smug grin as he crosses his arms and rests against the doorway.

"What compelled you to do that?"

"I wanted to thank you. For just… You have been great to me, and I think the least I can do is give you something to eat. Assuming you do not already have plans."

"If by plans you mean watching reruns of _Magnum_ and eating some of the left over pizza from last night, then yes. I have big plans."

I smile as I walk past him, lightly bumping his shoulder.

"I have the makings for some Fettuccini Alfredo in this bag. I think that sounds a bit better."

"Oh, I know it's better." He says, and I place the grocery bag Abby had packed for me on his counter.

"And Tony." I say softly, turning to face him.

This so was not part of my original plan.

He does not have time to respond as I stand on my toes and give him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Thank you. And I really mean it."

I am not able to see the smile that I am sure is spreading across his face as I turn around and begin preparing the meal.

"You're welcome."

-=-

**--==--**

**Damn.**

**Oh wait, that doesn't fit.**

**I know I kinda hyped up the kiss. Well, I didn't really. In fact, I never explicitly said there would be a kiss, so I don't think I can be blamed for how innocuous it seemed.**

**Also, I know this chapter was short, but surely a seemingly-innocuous kiss more than makes up for it, yes?**

**Review please. Just click the button and type a couple words.**


	9. 9: Last Request

**a/n: Quick warning: this chapter is all fluff.**

**Some of it might be confusing… I'd recommend reading it again. A lot of banter going on here.**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

My lips tingle, but that doesn't stop me from spreading them into a wide smile as I watch her pull out the cooking materials.

Well that was unexpected.

"You're welcome." I say, resting myself against the counter as I watch Ziva work next to me.

"And you are not allowed to help me at all with this."

"Believe it or not, I wasn't planning on helping you. I kinda like watching you cook for me. You seem so domesticated."

"Domesticated?" She scoffs, as she pulls her hair into a ponytail. It's curly again today.

"You know, almost house wife-esk."

"I know what it means. I just do not agree."

"Yeah. You would make a horrible house wife."

"I do not know if I should take offense to that or not."

"Please, don't."

She turns and gives me a wide smile. I return it.

"Where are your pots? I need to boil some water."

I grab a pasta pot out of my cabinet and start filling it with water. "This doesn't count as helping, does it?"

"I'll allow it. Since you know where everything is, would you mind getting a frying pan out as well?"

"You ask too much of me,"

She shoots me a look as I put both the pot and the pan on the stove.

"So how was your day?" She asks, putting a stick of butter in the pan.

I looked for psychologists. Ones that Ziva would voluntarily see.

"Okay. And yours?"

"It was eventful. I had a physical therapy session, and then I went apartment shopping." She says, turning to face me.

"Find anything good?"

"Yes, actually."

She doesn't continue, and I realize I'll have to prompt her.

"What's it like?"

"Similar to yours." She says quietly.

"What, is it in this building?" I joke. It surprises me how much I wish it's true.

"No, not this building. The one across the street."

"Seriously?"

Don't get your hopes up, Anthony.

"I have not made a bid or anything, but it looks really nice."

"You know what this means right?"

"No." The apprehension in her voice is evident.

"We can carpool to work together!"

She smiles, before pouring something into the frying pan.

"You drive too slowly."

"Well I'm not letting you take me to work. I like living."

"Tony, I am still living and I drive myself all the time. I have hardly gotten into an accident recently. And it was not even my fault."

"Reassuring. But that doesn't mean I won't die of a heart attack, Zee-Vah."

She gives me a look. "Well, I am not sure if I even want the place anyway."

I knew it was too good to be true.

"Why? This is a nice part of town. The apartments here are roomy, and I'm sure they'll be more than sufficient for you."

"Are you saying I don't need more space?"

"Yes, though speaking of large living quarters, I can't believe you never talked about how massive your childhood home was!"

"You saw it?"

"Yeah, I saw it. I was in it."

"Well forgive me for not bringing it up?"

"I mean, we've been talking about your upbringing a lot recently. I just figured you'd mention how loaded you were."

"Loaded?"

"Rich."

"It did not seem relevant. And while we are on the subject, I have a request."

"Name it."

"I do not want to talk about myself tonight, and I was hoping to hear more about your past."

Huh.

Don't really want to talk about it.

Though I suppose my past wasn't nearly as rough as Ziva's. Okay, it really doesn't even compare, but I'd rather not have to think or talk about my father ever again.

_She needs to separate therapy from a personal relationship… Talk about yourself. Or just talk about things a psychologist wouldn't. And, please, make sure you recommend her to seek help._

Ducky's words ring through my head as I stare blankly at Ziva.

"You should see a psychologist." I blurt out, and she frowns.

"What?"

"Okay, that came out completely wrong. On every level. I just mean that you should talk to a therapist. At least have one session at any rate. You know, to help you heal completely. Psychologically."

"What does this have to do with you talking about your life?"

"Nothing. I mean, I've seen a shrink a couple of times, but… I'm getting off topic. I just… You were talking about me talking about my life, and Ducky gave me the same advice since we're friends, and I'm not your therapist. I think that our relationship – or friendship – should be just that, and not like psychoanalysis. So I actually looked for some good psychologists in the area, and I um… Well I made a list. And I know that was kind of rude of me to do… but if you want to check out some of the doctors…"

I search around my pants pocket for the folded up piece of paper before handing it to her.

"I took some notes on them. I mean, I researched them online. I didn't actually meet them in person, because I mean… overkill you know?"

She looks completely lost.

"Yeah. So I'm going to pick out a movie, and you should finish cooking."

"You are a dork." She says, shooting me a smile and I let the breath I'd been holding. Metaphorically.

Okay, only half metaphorically.

"I know."

-=-

The credits begin rolling and Ziva immediately stands up. For a moment, I'm worried she's going to leave but then I see her pick up our plates.

"It's okay, I got it Ziva."

I stand up quickly, moving to take the dishes out of her hands just as she begins walking towards the kitchen.

I'm a little dizzy and I have to steady myself against the wall. Stood up to quickly. Or drank too much wine.

"Part of cooking you dinner involves cleaning it up."

"I don't think that was in the agreement." I mutter, following her into the kitchen.

"You will live." She responds, running the water and rinsing the plates under it.

Screw it.

I walk the short steps over to her and take the dishes she's finished cleaning from her hands.

"I'm just putting them in the dishwasher."

"Cheater." I hear her mumble, and I give her a cheeky smile.

"But thank you for dinner, Ziva. It was delicious."

"How does dessert sound?"

She starts walking towards me and for a moment I think I'm getting seduced. But then she makes her way towards my freezer.

I think I drank too much wine.

"Do you have any ice cream?"

"I have ice, and I have cream. But I don't think together they make ice cream. I mean, we can try…" I'm trying to joke, but it's not funny.

I really drank too much wine.

"You have nothing sweet?"

Okay, now she's setting me up.

"Just my smile." I say, grinning widely.

"I do not think I want to eat that."

"It would be difficult."

"Okay. Let's just talk then. Or, you just talk. I want to hear about you." She says, closing the freezer door and walking back towards the living room.

"You want to hear about me… Well, I think you pretty much know everything. I mean, you had your Mossad intel, right?"

"Well, yes. But those are just the superficial details. I would like to know more about you, and just… you."

I think she had too much wine as well.

Did we go through more than one bottle? I don't remember…

"Well, where would you like me to start?"

"The beginning." She says, plopping herself unceremoniously on the couch.

"My birth? I can't say I remember too much of it…"

She yawns, but covers it up quickly with a cough. "How about your high school years? Wait, actually I know about them already."

How in depth do Mossad vet people?

"Okay, what about your relationship with your father?"

"Wow. You just go straight for the jugular, don't you?"

"Tony. I was trained by Mossad."

I suppose that's a yes.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair.

Am I seriously going to talk about this?

"Do you seriously want me to talk about this?"

"No. I am sorry. I do not want to force you to. I was just curious."

Now I feel bad.

I mean, I hadn't forced Ziva into talking about the relationships she had with her family, but I'd definitely asked her. Several times.

"I was just expecting some foreplay before we got into the heavy stuff."

"I'm sorry?"

She probably didn't get the metaphor.

"Allegory, Ziva."

"Oh. I thought you were referencing the kiss I gave you earlier."

We would never be having this conversation if we hadn't downed two bottles of Merlot.

"No. But while we're on the subject, what was that about?"

"I told you. I wanted to thank you. But we were talking about you. So tell me about something you would like to talk about. Maybe the favorite basketball game you ever played in."

She knows what I love.

"That, I can do."

-=-

"I'm boring you." I say, interrupting my story of our dramatic 78-77 buzzer beater victory over Michigan.

"What? No. I am just resting my eyes."

I think she had been sleeping. Her body is curled up into a ball next to me, her head inches away from my leg.

"I'm definitely boring you."

"I have had a long day, Tony. I am sorry. I do not mean to be rude…"

"Hey, don't worry about it. Physical therapy can really take it out of you."

"It has also been a while since I drank that much." She adds a small smile.

"Let me get you a glass of water…" I say, finding it incredibly hard to leave my seat.

"Tony…" She mutters, reaching out for my arm.

"Yeah," I start softly, moving closer to her.

"I do not think I should drive home tonight."

"That's fair." I say, as I watch her eyes close.

I think I'll grab a blanket instead of water.

-=-

**--==--**

**Review?**


	10. 10: Sunny Days

**a/n: Enjoy:**

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

_Hands are around my neck and a large object makes contact with the side of my head. I know I should fight back, but I do not. The man laughs, and holds my arms behind me. I see a few men come out from their hiding places, guns in hand._

"_So good of you to join us, Ms. David."_

_I do not turn to face the voice. Why bother?_

"_Disarm her." He says, and I feel hands pulling roughly at my clothes. It takes all my strength not to kick the man who is searching._

_His hand touches my ass I cannot restrain myself as I whip my boot across his face._

_He falls down and I realize just how easy it would be to take these men out._

_But I do not._

_The man behind me laughs, and one of the others continues the search._

_He takes both my guns and the knife at my waist._

"_I am afraid that you will not be with us for the next part of our journey, however. We would not want you to know where we are taking you."_

_And all goes dark._

-=-

I awake with a start in unfamiliar surroundings. The adrenalin rushes into my bloodstream, as my eyes try to focus in the dark room.

Tony's living room.

I let myself relax, though I still get up from my spot on his couch.

I need water.

My heart is beating fast as I walk the short distance to his kitchen.

I could have prevented it. I could have fought back.

And I know why I did not. Because I _wanted _to be captured.

I turn on the lights in the kitchen, and my eyes fall upon a piece of paper. The paper Tony had given me last night. The one with the psychologists.

I am tempted to call one of them, before I glance at the clock. 2:21. I do not think a doctor would appreciate a wake up call for someone who was not even a patient.

_I wanted to be captured._

Because I had nothing to live for.

I feel sick with myself. I have caused so many people pain and worry with my abduction… and all because I wanted to die.

No. I did not want to die. I wanted to be captured. I wanted something new in my life, because I had screwed everything else up.

But maybe dying did seem like a better option than going back to Mossad. I would have died there eventually anyway.

I realize how terrible this all sounds and a wave of nausea washes over me.

I have not moved from my spot in the kitchen and I realize that I need to. I cannot stand still right now. I cannot stay in Tony's house, but I cannot go back to Abby's either.

They both cared so much about my recovery… they both worried so much about me… I cannot imagine how much it would hurt them to hear it was all self inflicted.

I let out a small sob.

Am I crying?

When did I become so weak?

"Ziva?"

Shit.

Can I make it back into the living room in time for Tony to still believe me to be asleep?

I realize the answer is no as he walks groggily into the kitchen.

"Hey, what are you doing up?"

"Getting water." I reply, my voice shaky.

If he was not awake before he certainly is now. Probably saw the tears running down my cheeks.

I do not have time to tell him I am fine as suddenly he is wrapping me in a hug.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

I can say nothing, and instead I bury my face into his chest and cry. Even this act makes me feel sick. If he knew the truth…

"I did this to myself, Tony."

I say it because I hope he will let go of me. I hope he will tell me how terrible I am, or I hope he will kick me out. It is what I deserve.

"What are you talking about?"

"I got myself captured. I wanted to be tortured. I wanted to die."

I want him to push me away, but instead he just holds me tighter.

"No you didn't." He says into my hair.

"I had nothing left, and I just wanted it to be over. I could have fought back. I could've taken them out. I was armed… I just…"

I cannot continue and I pull back from him.

"I am so sorry." I say, looking into his worry filled green eyes.

"Ziva…" he mutters before wrapping me in his arms again.

I want to fight back from him, but I cannot. Perhaps it is the tiredness, perhaps it is the fact that I have nowhere to go, or perhaps it is the fact that I just love being held by him.

Probably a mix of all three.

"Go back to bed, we'll talk about this in the morning."

Admittedly, I am tired, but I cannot encroach on Tony's hospitality any longer.

"Tony," I start but he gives me a squeeze and kisses my forehead.

"We'll talk about this in the morning, but right now please just go back to sleep. Take my bed."

"No, I cannot do that."

"Ziva, the couch can't be comfortable, and with your back… Please, Ziva. For me."

_For him._

I do not want to, but he as asked so little of me. I know he will not listen to my protests anyway, so I succumb.

He grabs my hand and leads me to the room, as if he does not trust me to go there myself.

"Let's get you out of those clothes…" He says, I and I look up, confusion across my face. "Not like… I just thought you'd be more comfortable in some sweats or something. I have a shirt and shorts you can put on."

He pulls some clothes out of his drawer before handing them to me. For a moment, I am unsure if he would like me to change in front of him, but then I remember he has a bathroom. Of course.

I do not think I will ever understand how Tony can be so kind to me.

I quickly change into his clothes before walking out to find him resting against the closed door.

"Tony-" I start but he quickly interrupts me.

"Listen, Ziva, I don't know what happened to you, or if you really did let yourself get captured, but it doesn't matter. You're here now. And you're okay, and I know you wouldn't let that happen to you again." He pauses, searching my eyes. "Right?"

He is right. He is spot on. There is no way I would ever want to leave them again. No way I would ever want to leave him again.

I would tell him this, but I am finding it hard to speak, so instead I just nod, and will the tears not to fall.

I think he sees this, as suddenly his arms are around me again.

I do not want to keep crying. I did not want to cry in the first place. But having Tony hold me just feels so good, and that fact makes me want to cry as well.

"Just go to sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning." He mumbles it into my hair, and I wonder if he is on the verge of tears as well.

I nod, and pull back before sitting on the side of the bed he had not been occupying.

He makes to leave, and I feel the need to stop him.

"Tony," He turns around. "Could you… stay here?"

I feel like an idiot.

"Yeah," and I think I see relief fill his features. "I can do that."

I allow myself to lie down, pulling the covers over me as Tony gets in on his side.

"You know I care about you, right?" he asks, reaching for my hand under the blankets.

I nod as I intertwine my fingers with his. He gives me a smile before moving closer to give me a kiss on the forehead.

I grasp one of his arms. "I just…" I start, wanting to hell him how bad I want to be held.

I do not have to say it, as he nods and once again wraps his arms around me.

"I forgot to turn out the lights." He mutters angrily, jumping out of bed. Just as I was starting to get comfortable.

The empty space next to me does not last long, because as soon as the lights go out, Tony is drawing me close to his body.

"G'night, Ziva."

I rest the top of my head against his chest and close my eyes.

"Good night."

-=-

**--==--**

**Heh.**

**Only one more chapter.**

**And boy, it's a doozy.**

**For the record (and I really hate to say this) I'm already thinking about making it into a trilogy. For the circuitry, of course.**

…**why can I never let something die?**


	11. 11: One Thing

**a/n: The final chapter. Enjoy:**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

I'm not usually a cuddler. Well, that's not entirely fair to say. It's just that normally when I have sex with someone, they go home before I fall asleep. Or I go home. I'm not used to sharing a bed.

In fact, I usually steer clear of bed-sharing at all costs.

Usually.

Right now with Ziva's head resting against my chest, and her arm draped loosely around my waist… I'm wondering why I ever avoided the experience.

It's amazing.

I mean, we aren't even technically cuddling. We've only got like… three points of contact. Her arm on my torso, my arm and hand on her back, and her head on my chest.

I don't think that can be defined as cuddling.

And if it is, then I don't just want to cuddle.

She adjusts her head, and I go rigid.

She's too peaceful to wake up right now.

When I'm confident she's asleep, I take my hand and brush a stray piece of hair out of her face.

God she's beautiful.

Suddenly I'm hit with the overwhelming feel of contentment.

I could live like this. Waking up with Ziva next to me…

I want to live like this.

I want to be able to fall asleep with her against me, and wake up the exact same way.

I want to have a lazy Sunday morning with her, lying in bed and just enjoying the feel of her body.

I want Ziva.

To have her so tantalizingly close is killing me. I suppose it's good that I've been able to hold off these feelings for a while. Well, not really hold off. I mean, I had them. I just ignored them.

Probably why they're all crashing down on my right now.

I feel her head move yet again, nuzzling further into my shirt-clad chest.

I think she's tormenting me on purpose.

I want to take a look at the alarm clock, but to do so would mean discommoding Ziva, and I'm not that cruel.

Her head moves again, unfortunately this time it's away from my body. Her eyes open before she blinks a couple times.

"Morning." I say softly, apparently startling her as she withdraws her arm from my side.

I feel strangely empty as I pull my arm away too.

"Mornin'." She says, voice hoarse, hair messy, and eyes half closed.

I don't think I've seen anything cuter.

Cuter.

_Cuter?_

I'd be more disgusted with myself if it weren't so true.

"What time is it?" She asks, and I turn over to take a glance at the clock.

"Eight in the morning." She nods, and starts sitting up. "Whoa, where you going, my ninja?"

"Bathroom."

"Oh. I suppose that's fair."

As soon as the door closes behind I grab my phone from my bedside and flip it open.

Yup. New text from Abby:

_Ziva is at your house right??_

I'm not particularly adept at texting, so I opt for calling instead.

"Tony?" Of course she would answer on the first ring.

"Hey, Abbs, just letting you know that yes, Ziva is here."

"Good. I was worried. I mean, I wasn't actually worried. I know Ziva can take care of herself of course, but I just didn't know… I mean I knew she was at your house for dinner, but she doesn't normally stay after. Speaking of which, why did she stay over?"

She's not hiding the suggestive tone in her voice.

"She fell asleep on the couch." I hear the shower running in the background. Maybe I should go make breakfast. "Listen, I've got some pancakes to cook, but Ziva should be back at your place soon."

"Bye, Tony!"

"See you tomorrow, Abby." I smile as I close my phone before hopping out of bed.

Hopefully she won't be back at Abby's too soon though.

-=-

I hardly notice Ziva when she walks in as I'm in the middle of flipping a chocolate chip pancake.

"Do you mind if I join you for breakfast?" She asks quietly from her spot at the doorway.

"Well, seeing as I'm making a dozen pancakes, I certainly hope you do."

She smiles, and I motion to the plate next to me.

"We've got some blueberry, some chocolate chips, and some regular. Go ahead and start eating."

"I will wait for you."

"Well, I'm just finishing these last two… Seriously. Start eating."

She gives me a defiant look, and stands still.

"Could you at least get the syrup out of the fridge?"

She smiles before walking past me, lightly brushing my arm. I'm relatively certain it was an incidental contact, but I still shiver at the touch.

"I put your clothes on your bed. Thank you for letting me wear them last night."

"Of course. And if you didn't notice, you wore an OSU shirt. I think that means you're an honorary buckeye now."

She scoffs.

"In your dreams, DiNozzo." I stick my tongue out at her before turning off the stove. "Would you like me to get out plates?"

"If you wouldn't mind…" I say, placing the giant platter of pancakes on the island counter. "Bon appetite, madam."

"Todah," she responds and I graciously take a plate from her outstretched hand.

I feel we're married.

"I feel like we're married." I say. Stupidly.

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know… It just kinda feels that way. I mean, I never really eat breakfast with anyone. Maybe that's it."

"How does eating breakfast with me make you think we are married?"

"Never mind, it's not important. Just eat your pancakes."

She makes a face at me, before taking her seat on one of the barstools.

"Well thank you for making these, Tony. They look delicious."

"They taste even better."

We eat in silence for a few moments before she starts, "Listen, about last night."

She pauses and I stop eating.

"I had a bad dream, and I overreacted. I know that makes me sound like a child, but it is what happened."

Anything that makes Ziva cry that much cannot just be a bad dream. I'm tempted to call her out on this and ask her what the real issue is, but ultimately it's not my place.

If she wants to talk about, she'll talk about it.

"Okay." I say, taking her by surprise. "If you ever have that dream again, just call me. Whatever time of the night."

She nods, though we both know she won't call.

The rest of breakfast is spent in superficial banter. Just the way I like it.

"Thank you for breakfast." She says, rinsing her plate before putting in the dishwasher.

"You are very welcome my ninja." She smiles at me, and I smile back.

God she's beautiful.

"Don't leave."

What did I just say?

"What?"

"I just…"

Screw it.

I take the short steps over to her and lightly cup her face, as her eyes search my own.

"Tony,"

I silence her with my lips, moving a hand to her back as she puts hers on my chest.

I want to deepen the kiss. I want to press her against the counter and I want to taker her back to my room and I want Ziva.

I want Ziva.

I hide my groan as I feel her gently push me away.

Ziva doesn't want me.

"I do not think I am ready for this."

I'm silent. What would I say anyway?

"It is not that I do not want it. Us. It is just…"

"Too soon?"

"Yes. I am still not myself, and I think you deserve to have someone less emotionally unstable. I also would like to be normal again before I start a relationship."

"I can wait."

"Tony-"

"Ziva, even if you don't want me to wait, I'm going to."

"You deserve to be happy. I do not think I can give you that."

"I'll take my chances."

We're silent for a moment.

"I will see you tomorrow, Tony." She says, and I close my eyes as she brushes her lips against my cheek.

I only open them once I hear her walk past me, though I don't turn around to see her walk out the door.

Well. That's pretty much the best I could've hoped for.

I mean, sure, it was great waking up to Ziva. It was great eating breakfast with Ziva. And it was damn sure great kissing Ziva.

But nothing was going to progress from that. Not until she's ready at any rate.

But it's good to be friends with her again. It's good to be partners with her again.

Maybe I'm a little upset that I won't have a romantic relationship with her, but I do have a relationship with her again.

And that is what counts.

-=-

**--==--**

**Hope you enjoyed this story.**

**Yeah, I'm probably going to make it a trilogy. I'm not sure when I'll have the first chapter up, but it might take a while.**

**It will be called "Rise" so be on the lookout.**

**Anywho, thanks for reading this.**

**-Fin-**


End file.
